A tree grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith [90]
Francie saw the tree leave his hands. There was a split bit of being when time and space had no meaning. The whole world stood still as something dark and monstrous came through the air. The tree came towards her blotting out all memory of her ever having lived. There was nothing—nothing but pungent darkness and something that grew and grew as it rushed at her. She staggered as the tree hit them. Neeley went to his knees but she pulled him up fiercely before he could go down. There was a mighty swishing sound as the tree settled. Everything was dark, green and prickly. Then she felt a sharp pain at the side of her head where the trunk of the tree had hit her. She felt Neeley trembling.
When some of the older boys pulled the tree away, they found Francie and her brother standing upright, hand in hand. Blood was coming from scratches on Neeley’s face. He looked more like a baby than ever with his bewildered blue eyes and the fairness of his skin made more noticeable because of the clear red blood. But they were smiling. Had they not won the biggest tree in the neighborhood? Some of the boys hollered “Horray!” A few adults clapped. The tree man eulogized them by screaming,
“And now get the hell out of here with your tree, you lousy bastards.”
Francie had heard swearing since she had heard words. Obscenity and profanity had no meaning as such among those people. They were emotional expressions of inarticulate people with small vocabularies; they made a kind of dialect. The phrases could mean many things according to the expression and tone used in saying them. So now, when Francie heard themselves called lousy bastards, she smiled tremulously at the kind man. She knew that he was really saying, “Good-bye—God bless you.”
It wasn’t easy dragging that tree home. They had to pull it inch by inch. They were handicapped by a boy who ran alongside yelping, “Free ride! All aboard!” who’d jump on and make them drag him along. But he got sick of the game eventually and went away.
In a way, it was good that it took them so long to get the tree home. It made their triumph more drawn out. Francie glowed when she heard a lady say, “I never saw such a big tree!” A man called after them, “You kids musta robbed a bank to buy such a big tree.” The cop on their corner stopped them, examined the tree, and solemnly offered to buy it for ten cents—fifteen cents if they’d delivered it to his home. Francie nearly burst with pride although she knew he was joking. She said she wouldn’t sell it for a dollar, even. He shook his head and said she was foolish not to grab the offer. He went up to a quarter but Francie kept smiling and shaking her head, “no.”
It was like acting in a Christmas play where the setting was a street corner and the time, a frosty Christmas Eve and the characters, a kind cop, her brother and herself. Francie knew all the dialogue. The cop gave his lines right and Francie picked up her cues happily and the stage directions were the smiles between the spoken lines.
They had to call up to Papa to help them get the tree up the narrow stairs. Papa came running down. To Francie’s relief, he ran down straight and not sidewise which proved that he was still sober.
Papa’s amazement at the size of the tree was flattering. He pretended to believe that it wasn’t theirs. Francie had a lot of fun convincing him although she knew all the while that the whole thing was make-believe. Papa pulled in front and Francie and Neeley pushed in back and they began forcing the big tree up the three narrow flights of stairs. Johnny was so excited that he started singing, not caring that it was rather late at night. He sang “Holy Night.” The narrow walls took up his clear sweet voice, held it for a breath and gave it back with doubled sweetness. Doors creaked open and families gathered on the landings, pleased and amazed at the something unexpected being added to that moment of their lives.
Francie saw the Tynmore girls standing together in their doorway, their